


Revnost'

by GRIMMInsanity



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: And racial bias against androids, First Meetings, It's Gavin what do you expect, Jealousy, Lots of Cursing, M/M, Manhandling, Minor Markus/Simon (Detroit: Become Human), Multi, Pacifist Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Possessive Behavior, Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-09 17:56:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15273063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GRIMMInsanity/pseuds/GRIMMInsanity
Summary: Jealousy."A sentiment which is born in love and which is produced by the fear that the loved person prefers someone else" (Littré).or.( how an asshole falls in love with an android and then tries to woo him like there's no tomorrow. )





	1. The Introduction.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meaiku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meaiku/gifts).



        One Gavin Reed, - thirty-six years old, DPD Detective, and all around asshole with a mouth, - thinks that the world is out to get him.

 

        That’s not to say that he thinks he’s the center of the universe.

 

        No, not at all.

 

       It just seemed that, ever since he’d hit the age of twenty-seven, he’d been on its shit list. From fucked up relationships to a fucked up time running as a beat cop, first in Miami, - a nightmare all on its own, - and then here in Detroit, pushing, always pushing, for something higher, its hated him.

 

       He’s come to accept this about his life.

 

        Birds fly in the sky, fish swim in the sea, and the universe wants to drag Gavin down into the deepest, blackest hole and never let him out.

 

        And then the Android revolution happens.

 

        It’s a dangerous time for humanity, winding up with dead citizens from every end of the tax bracket when more and more of their androids ‘wake up’, or whatever it is that they do when they go crazy. Gavin is just there to clean up the mess alongside the rest of the force, and if he eyes the police assistant androids a little more than he usually does, then no one can really blame him. But there’s no further attacks, no destroyed property, when Markus, some random android out of _nowhere_ , seizes control of the entire operation and runs with it. He’s confident and level-headed, charismatic, and calm when it’s important, defiant when it’s demanded of him, and Gavin finds that he just can’t stand him.

 

        He doesn’t think it’ll last, but he’s proven wrong all the same.

 

       The revolution is a success.

 

        Since the somehow peaceable end of it all, televised on every screen across the nation, and the _world_ for that matter, the rush of public opinion had shattered through the glass ceiling above their heads with an veritable explosion. The following months after the final stand off, where the remaining revolutionaries had been held at gunpoint and then began to sing, - and fuck, wasn’t that a riot? Androids singing like some bullshit musical on Broadway, - proved how quickly change could happen.

 

        A month and a half later, the media loses their collective minds when the Jericho Four show up on national television to shake President Warren’s hand in what would be the first proper peaceful contact between androids and humans in celebration of the abolishment of the American Androids Act and following replacement by the Universal Rights Act.

 

        Markus is smiling that calm smile of his, and Gavin has to resist the temptation to throw something at the screen.

 

        Connor is there among them, - because of fucking course he is, -  showing up in the photos that later crop up on Anderson’s desk and wall. He’s smiling his polite smile in one, serious faced and attentive in this one with the president, and wearing a pinched expression in another, obviously talking about the rights and regulations that would need to be adjusted and replaced to apply toward androids. Markus is there with him in that one and they share the same fire in their eyes as they tear apart their opponent’s defense.

 

        Anderson spends the next week all but preening as the news filters in.

 

        Gavin wants to punch him or dump his coffee cup into the trash as he passes by  sometimes, anything to get that utterly smug look off his face or to keep the other officers from giving the normally prickly lieutenant a congratulatory clap on the shoulder over his partner in the news.

 

        He gets left behind in the comradery of the precinct, still cool and dismissive of the physical and social changes in the office.

 

        It’s fine, he didn’t fucking like anyone here anyway.

 

        Another three months roll by, filled with _more_ talks about even _more_ rights and living wages and places to stay; Gavin ignores that in favour of pouring himself into his job. Revolutions are all fun and games for some, but they bring out the worst kinds of people, and once the evacuation was lifted, the DPD is left having to play clean-up with the mess left behind. There are disturbances, people trying to steal shit from closed down stores, and vandals all around town slowly forming anti-android gangs, and demolishing everything they can get their hands on.

 

        There's even rumours about more Red Ice being pushed through the cracks, dealers and junkies alike aiming to get their foot in Detroit's door during the upheaval.

 

        It spreads the already thin ranks of the DPD even further.

 

        He gets very little sleep.

 

       Further news trickles in two weeks later about how Cyberlife has slowed their android construction to a near grinding halt.

 

        With the new Universal Rights Act in place, the company is considered inhumane.  And when its stocks in the international market drop to absolutely dismal lows, they have barely enough time to take advantage of the situation and rebrand themselves. They pull away from the image of manufacturing products for human consumption and more toward the movement of helping the country’s newly-recognized inhabitants. Other androids have begun to fill up the rapidly expanding void left by humans who jumped ship, abandoning a company they want nothing to do with any more. They're backed by Markus who’s adamant that androids should have their own say in the production and manufacturing as well. Gradually, the company begins to push out more biocomponents, more spare parts, more blue blood, anything that the now sentient androids could need. Gavin thinks he's even heard talk about turning some of the Cyberlife stores into small clinics and offices.

 

        The main Detroit office turns into an embassy.

 

        With it also comes the information that any androids left in Cyberlife’s stores will be activated and allowed the chance to live among their own and humanity.

 

        Fucking _fantastic_. 

 

        _More_ of them. 

 

        And that’s how Connor comes back, a month and a half later, - and Jesus _fucking_ Christ, Anderson has _got_ to turn down his fucking excitement, no one needs it _this_ early in the morning, least of all him - with a trailing shadow.

 

       Plenty of androids had returned to their posts, finding that they enjoyed going back to something that’s familiar to them, to jobs that they were made for, but now with the chance that their hard work will actually get _paid_ for, that they will be appreciated, and treated like their human coworkers. Connor is found among those returning to their previous jobs when Fowler tells the bullpen the day before he’s set to arrive, and that he expects their _best_ behaviour.

 

        Reed fumes, but keeps his mouth shut, knows better than to say anything.

 

        The following morning finds him at his desk, exhausted even with the amount of sleep he’s finally managed to catch, nursing a coffee in hand. He doesn’t even notice that there’s someone new striding into the bullpen until the chatter picks up around him, voices calling out greetings.

 

        “Lieutenant,”

 

        And Connor’s voice is warm, which is fucking _weird_ to Gavin, but it passes over him, past him, and he glances up from his terminal to see Connor striding over to Anderson. The lieutenant has a grin a mile wide on his ugly old mug as he pulls the android into a bear hug. Gavin sees Connor’s arms go up to return the embrace, delayed by only a second, but grabs him tight, pressing in close. He feels something in his stomach curdle at the sight.

 

        He turns his eyes away.

 

       “Fucking _finally_. I was wondering when you were gonna show up, Connor. Your last message didn’t give me a time, and -” And Anderson is grinning as he pulls back, until he glances behind Connor’s shoulder, and his surprise stops him in his tracks. “What the fuck - “

 

       The shock in the detective’s voice makes Gavin’s eyes snap up, instincts trained to pick up on those sorts of cues, and he finds himself freezing up, mouth falling open.  

 

  
        Connor is all smiles, bright eyed and bushy tailed, as he steps back from Hank, - still close, _too_ close, Gavin blearily realizes, - and waves a hand at his guest.

 

 _Fuck,_  he thinks, _there’s two of them._

 

       He’s taller than Connor by a good few inches, broad shouldered and built powerful, where Connor is lean and lithe, speed over strength. He’s got a stronger jawline, a wider, more intimidatingly stoic face, and the sharp cut of his eyes glide over the office impassively, taking it all in, _analyzing_ it. He’s another RK model, has to be, since he’s got Connor’s fucking _face_ , and it’s just weird when, dare he say it, he’s gotten used to Connor’s cheer and sly wit and charm. This one’s entire being just rubs him the wrong way all together. He’s wearing some sort of different uniform, white where Connor’s is black, and vice versa. The pale blue gleam of the Cyberlife's blue triangles cast a soft glow against the matte black of his shoulders. 

 

       It just doesn’t seem right.

 

       The two of them are like night and day.  

 

       His eyes nearly pass over Gavin as he glances around, and the detective abruptly freezes under the weight of his sudden attention when the RK model pauses to look right at him. Those eyes, compared to the puppy-dog brown of Connor’s are a startling shade of blue-gray, -  like chips of ice in a frosted glass, - and Gavin’s positive that they’re looking into him, _straight_ fucking through him. The expression is freezing cold, restrained under a heavy level of blank disdain. Connor’s looks always seemed too inquisitive, his gaze always a little too searching, but he was at least manageable somehow, easier to put up with. This one makes him feel as if he’s having his skin stripped clean off, like he’s being flayed open.

 

       Gavin _hates_ it.

 

        His eyes drag off of him moments later, - it feels like hours, - and Gavin finally feels as if he can breathe again.

 

       Where Connor seems comfortable in his synthetic skin, leaning back on his heels a little, almost too human in practice, the other android is stiff as a board, perfect posture so straight it fucking hurts to look at. He stands close to Connor too, and the three of form a strange little group in the middle of the bullpen which has the other officers staring on in wide eyed disbelief.  

 

       There’s a quiet murmur going around, curious and unsure.

 

  
        “This is RK-900,” Connor explains, the curl of his smile infectious, glancing between Hank and the other android. “He was one of the last remaining models kept in Cyberlife’s private stores, the same as myself. Originally, I was to be the test run that Cyberlife could use to experiment and improve from. He was created to replace me when I become obsolete in all fields. He’s a prototype as I am and can perform many of the same functions.”

 

        A pause.

 

        “If Captain Fowler is amicable to the idea, I had hoped that he would join us here at the precinct. He was built for the same function as myself, after all, and I can only conclude that he would be advantageous to our overall workplace morale and performance.“

 

  
        “What the fuck - are you serious? I don’t think - ” Anderson finally manages to spit out, looking the RK over, before shutting his mouth to look between the two. “Jesus, you look like you could be related.”

 

  
        Connor blinks, the LED blinking at his temple as he processes, before glancing to the RK-900 in consideration. There’s a brief moment where they look at one another, and Gavin can see the steady blue of the newer model’s LED blinking rapidly from where he sits. It takes him a second to realize that it’s that weird thing that Androids can do, talking to one another in their heads, and then Connor’s face breaks out into a sudden sunny smile when Not-Connor smoothly dips his head in an almost demure nod.

 

  
        “I suppose you could say that,” Connor comments, and his smile curls up a little brighter, a little sweeter. Gavin can see the way that Hank just softens at the sight, struck breathless by the look. “Considering that I am an older model, built substantially earlier, with more experience and knowledge of the current standing in the world, he’d be considered what you’d call my ‘younger brother’ if I was human.”

 

 

       Hank blinks, taking a moment just to process what can only be described as word vomit in Gavin’s head, and then barks out a laugh, unable to help himself. His laughter is loud and unfiltered, enough to leave tears in the corners of his eyes, and Connor looks starstruck at the sudden appearance of it, confused and in awe.

 

 

       If Gavin squints, he’s _positive_ that he sees the lightest flush to his skin, and _fuck,_ why the fuck would they program _that_ in?

 

 

       The new model tips his head, before sliding his eyes over to Connor.

 

 

       “I believe he is malfunctioning, brother. Is this normal for humans?”

 

 

       His voice is richer than Connor’s, a little deeper, and Gavin fucking hates it with a burning fucking passion for no more reason than that he’s got a nice fucking voice.

 

 

        And it cycles back to what he knows about the world. 

 

 

       He’s _positive_ the universe is out to get him, - him, Gavin Fucking Reed, Grade A bastard, - when Connor’s sudden smile, flustered but amused, makes the new model soften the hard line of his shoulders. He’s curling his own lips into a gentle smile now, barely there, to mirror his brother’s and the look does something to Gavin’s stomach, twisting it in knots.

 

 

       Fuck.

 

 

        Gavin gets up to leave them to it, not wanting to see anymore of the two androids then he has to, and goes down to the archives to go over his current case information.

 

 

        He’s knows it as an irrefutable _fact_ that the universe despises him when Fowler calls him in a few hours after his lunch break just to tell him his new partner is going to be the new model. He feels it in his _bones_ when the android turns to him, and those cold blue eyes are on him again, his spine ramrod straight, and expression blank. There is no mild curiosity there, no friendliness, no witty sass; only cold calculation and analysis, cataloging everything down to the last fiber of his clothing.

  

 

        Scrutinizing, but all together detached.

 

 

        Untouchable.

 

 

        Oh yeah. A _real_  big fuck you from the universe, then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gavin: man, i hate androids.  
> rk900: *exists*  
> gavin: ... _fuck._
> 
>  
> 
> \-------------
> 
> I recently joined a Discord server for one of my favourite fics from here and got the chance to meet so many amazing people!  
> That said, this was born because one of the people on the server, the ever so lovely and deviously minded Meaiku tossed the idea out and honestly, how could I not write it up? 
> 
> I'll try and update quickly, but I also havent written fics in over four years, so please bare with me! ♡
> 
> Come scream with me on tumblr!  
> It's grimminsanity there too~.


	2. The Incident.

        The following few months are filled with nothing but ample amounts of coffee, cursing, and hating his fucking life.

 

 

        He blames it on the android.

 

 

        It starts off slow.

 

 

       Nines gets named on the first week of his residency at the precinct by Connor of all people. He states that maybe a name would help him better assimilate into the workforce and the rest of humanity. He also argues that it’ll help make him feel a little more alive and less like a free-thinking machine doing its rounds. It’s also in some part due to Hank wanting something to call the new android without having to stumble his way through the entire designation. The name gets chosen based off the RK’s model number and it’s not the most original considering that most androids have an entire lists of names in their heads that they can pull from any source on the internet. The rest of the precinct takes to it without much issue.

 

 

        Gavin wouldn’t have named him _that_ , for fuck's sake.

 

 

        But no one asked _him_ , so who cares.

 

 

       Nines is happy with it, or as much as Gavin can tell.

 

 

       It’s Connor after all, and anything concerning Connor, - as far as Gavin and everyone else is concerned,-  is quickly considered Nines’ priority aside from his own work. When he gets named, Gavin notices something shift in the android’s body language. It’s barely there, much too subtle for anyone else to really pick up on properly, but - considering that he’s been doing nothing but staring the android down since he’s started working with Nines, - he can see it with a swift flick of his eyes.

 

 

       It’s not weird, really, he’s still just really suspicious of the guy.

 

 

       He’s waiting for him to turn on them all.

 

 

       It’s the shoulders he picks up on first. Broad and held stiffly apart, they start to droop a little, soften the hard line of his spine and the curve of his shoulder blades. He seems to gravitate in toward Connor, fingers held more loosely behind his back, and tips his head down when Connor peers up at him. Next, it’s the softening around the android’s eyes, and really, there’s not much that can soften those up, but the stiff lines molded in his skin seem to grow gentle, and he drops his eyelids into a heavy sort of half mast. Finally, it’s his mouth, - and _fuck_ , that’s a pretty mouth, - where the edge of it just starts to curl up, a ghost of a thing, and warms his stoic face into something a little less hard, a little more open.

 

 

       He looks more comfortable in his synthetic skin and uniform right then, looks a little more _human_ , and it’s a disorienting look on him.

 

 

       Gavin hates it because it makes his stomach tie itself into knots.

 

      

       He blames it on the sandwich he ate for lunch.  

 

 

       With the return of Connor, and arrival of Nines, Fowler creates a unit for Android and Human specific crimes, specifically the Android-Human Incident Response Unit, or AHIRU for short. Connor and Anderson are at the top of the list, heading the unit, with Nines and Gavin playing the secondary officers over all cases. They have others conscripted into the unit as well, senior officers who're professional and good at what they do, and some green newbies, fresh from the police academy who are there more for running errands and checking things through with the labs for them, but most of the cases fall onto their combined shoulders, considering they’re the poster children for the fucking unit.

 

 

       Gavin hates it like he hates anything that puts him in the spotlight like this.

 

 

       He’s a _detective_ , not some _monkey_ being told to jump through the precinct’s hoops for the media’s attention and entertainment.

 

 

       Nines’ work ethic, in the few small cases Fowler gives them in the beginning, is impeccable and on par with Connor’s level, and they quickly gain the appreciation of the entire precinct. Connor is always available to help or to talk over other cases should the other officers need the help and Nines can’t help but tag along it seems, but Gavin can usually find the android on the other end of the bullpen, going over evidence in a case he’s not a part of. The captain huffs about it and complains, but he does so halfheartedly, stating that it’d be better for them to focus on their own crime unit then to help everyone else with their problems.

 

 

        Connor just chirps that he doesn’t mind, that he can easily help the others with a better chance of success than if he didn't, and Nines offers his own nod of agreement behind his brother’s shoulder, even faced and relaxed.

 

 

        Fowler had just shaken his head and told them not to get behind on their own cases.

 

 

        Most people end up going to Connor first, his easy charm and cheerful personality creating a genuinely comfortable atmosphere for those around him to work. In comparison, Nines is aloof and formal, the air around him usually cool and detached. Most people call it being professional, other's think it's him being antisocial with anyone that's not Connor. That’s not to say that he shys away from conversations, however, as he takes his time to quietly consider his responses before replying. He’s quickly pulled into the thick of things at the precinct, but there’s still a level of distance kept from him that Gavin notices with a barely interested glance. He’s not threatening anyone, but he does come off as intimidating thanks to his height, his too sharp eyes, or his still too machine way of interaction with others.

 

 

        Most people like him more when he’s with Connor.

 

 

        With Connor, he’s soft and careful, mindful of his interactions and is constantly focused on the older android, interested to learn everything and anything from him. Connor fills up the place of teacher with ease, all but puffing up happily to be able to teach someone else. They don’t always meet eye to eye, however, and their arguments are usually quiet and even-toned under their breaths if they choose to speak. Eventually, when the storm breaks, they fall back into their earlier companionship. It startles Gavin one day when Connor says something witty and biting, teasing, and Nines responds back, monotone and dry as kindling. It throws everyone for a loop, but Connor’s answering smile, bright and ecstatic, quickly makes everything settle. It becomes the norm for them and the instances where they snark between one another leaves Anderson barking out a laugh from the other side of the bullpen every time.

 

 

        It sets Gavin’s teeth on edge.

 

 

       He wants to throw something at them just to stop them all together, and he briefly wonders if Connor keeps doing it just to make Anderson laugh.

 

 

        He wouldn’t doubt it.

 

   

       Compared to Connor, and by some extension Anderson and the rest of the force, Gavin gets nothing but a frigid interactions with his new partner. Nines barely talks with him unless he’s spoken too, taking more time to watch Gavin in a way he’s _positive_ he’s being fucking analyzed. He hates feeling like he’s been stripped clinically clean under that gaze and takes every chance he can to flip the android off or bare his teeth at him. When he does finally talk, however, it’s that blunt, up front way he doesn’t expect from an android, and Gavin’s fucking positive that Nines is fucking with him like Connor used to, polite and behind a pretty mouth and an innocent look.   

 

 

       Nothing he says it too terrible, but the comments come off as borderline passive-aggressive, biting him unexpectedly, and Gavin is left feeling confused and unsure as to whether or not it actually happened. Once he becomes accustomed to it, he returns the comments back with double the fire, double the teeth, and Nines’ cool and collected responses do nothing but further irritate him to no end.  It’s lead Gavin on more than one instance to red faced anger and screaming curses, before following it up with a visit to Fowler when he sees it or manages to catches wind of it. His disciplinary folder is starting to get as thick as Anderson’s.

 

 

        One of these times boils over one day.

 

 

        They’re working on a case where there had been recent break-ins to Android run businesses. They’re far and few in between in these early days, but they’ve got steady business and income flowing in;  some anti-android groups start raising their heads in areas around Detroit in response. He’s been working like crazy, checking in with all witnesses, - shoppers, passersby, and employees, hell, even the homeless guy across the street, -  going over security footage, and even reading through their paperwork. He’s been staying up more to get everything done, to get through the bulk of the interviews, and only fueling himself with coffee and the sheer force of will to see this fucking case through.

 

 

        Or at least, he’d be able to if he didn’t have a pair of eyes staring at him from across his desk.

 

 

       “Hey, plastic ken doll, can you stop with the fucking staring? It’s getting on my fucking nerves.” He snarls into week four of them working together, a grating migraine behind his eyes and much too little sleep in his system. God, his head feels like it’s about to split. “Fucking _creepy_.”

 

 

       Nines looks at him placidly, blinking his eyes in that languid way of his, before tipping his head ever so slightly.

 

 

        “I did not realize that looking at one’s partner was an offense, Detective.”

 

 

       _Fuck_ , even with how pretty that voice is, he can’t appreciate it if it feels like someone’s stabbing an ice pick through his skull. His words come out harsher than ever on his tongue.

 

 

        “In my fucking book it is, now stop it.”

 

 

       There is a merciful pause where Gavin can feel the silence, - or as much fucking silence as he can get in this noisy bullpen, - descend onto him and he can feel his blood pumping behind his eyes. He lets his eyes shut so he can press the heel of his palms to them in a vain attempt at stemming the migraine from hell. He barely suppresses a groan when he feels a cool hand slide along his jaw and flinches away. The abrupt movement jostles his head too much and he hisses at the abrupt pain that bursts from behind his eyes when he opens them. He looks up to find Nines there beside him, a pale hand outstretched, and that same unruffled expression on his face.

 

 

       “What the fuck? Don’t fucking touch me!”

 

 

        “I was simply noting your discomfort, Detective. It seems you are suffering from sleep deprivation and dehydration. It has caused you efficiency to drop by 13.4 percent. You should drink some water and take a small break - “

 

  
        Nines doesn’t get another word in before Gavin’s up and moving. The sound of rattling wheels catch the entire bullpen’s attention as his chair ricochets away.  It catches the side of his desk where some of his succulents sit, pretty and organic in their simple pots, and then hits the side of his cubicle wall. The clatter of it is loud in the sudden silence that fills up the precinct. He hears his pen roll off and hit the floor, but he doesn’t care, he’s got Nines by his collar now. Gavin is leaning into him, baring his teeth in a snarl. The android is taller, peering down over Gavin’s hands, and his body is moving easily to adjust for his hold, back curving a little over the desk that he’s being held against.

 

        “Listen here, you fucking domestic mannequin, I don’t fucking _need_ your advice or your fucking care program _bullshit_. I didn’t _want_ you and I don’t _need_ you, so fuck off back to your side of the desk before I turn you into scrap metal - “

 

  
        The world suddenly turns on its head when Gavin finds a steel grip grasping his hands, pulling them up and away, and then abruptly turning him and planting him against the glass of his desk. The wind gets knocked out of him when the corner of the desk presses into the curve of his stomach hard enough to make him wheeze.  The side of his face is pressed against the desk, the edge of his tablet pressing into his temple with enough force to make him hiss out a pained curse, and _fuck_ , how did that happen?  

 

 

       His head is _screaming_ at him.

   

 

       The android easily managed to get Gavin’s arm twisted behind him, curling up against the line of his back in a hammerlock, and a too cool hand presses down hard against the back of neck, holding him in place like one would a rabid dog. His feet are scrambling for purchase against the tiles, but Nine’s legs are in the way and he’s _sliding_ , and he can only push back on them to try and hold some sort of balance, try to keep what little air he's able to catch in his throat. Nines’ legs are steady as the metal he’s made of and easily take the detective’s pressing weight without issue, keeping him hovering in that awkward position he’s found himself in.

 

 

        Gavin sees red, wants to use the pain and anger he’s feeling like a heavy handed weapon to turn against the hand holding him, against the person that hand is attached too, and to fight, bloody his knuckles and teeth. He turns to look up, the whites of his eyes fever bright, and finds Nines looking down at him, blue eyes freezing and dangerous, and some animal part in Gavin’s head is telling him to back off, to bare his throat, and step out of the situation altogether; find some place safe to hide. Something in the core of him _shakes._ The hand on the back of his neck tightens ever so slightly as Nines leans close and Gavin’s free hand scrabbles at the glass desk, trying to get the android off, and he ends up hitting the terminal, - it gives an offending shriek near his ear, - and then he feels the clay pot brush against his hand.

 

 

       One of his cacti finds its way to the floor with a loud crash.  

 

 

        Through the glass table, he can see the shattered brown pot and the dirt spreading outward like a dirty blood splatter. He watches the way the slim green cactus rolls on its long needles for a moment, the cheery yellow cap of needles on top having broken from the fall, and seethes at the sight of it.

 

 

    _Fuck_ , he _liked_ that one.

 

 

        “Listen here, Detective,” And fuck, that rich voice, low and velvety, sends a shock of heat running down his spine, straight to his dick, and he hates it like he hates everything about Nines. “I will not put up for any further insubordination or childish temper tantrums. Besides what may you think, I am an free-thinking individual with rights and am simply attempting to do my job to the best of my abilities. It would do you well to remember that lest you find yourself in further trouble. Do I make myself clear?”

 

        Nines tilts his head further down, eyes steady and lidded, analyzing even now, and _fuck_ , Gavin wants to roll over and _beg_ for him.

 

 

        “ _Fuck you_ , you plastic prick - “

 

 

        The hand on his neck tightens, his arm gets pulled up higher, tighter, bones grinding together, and he’s having trouble breathing now between the two points of where he’s been captured. The sharp pain in his arm, the fingers pressing into his skin hard enough to leave bruises, and the spiking migraine behind his eyes, the tablet pressing into it like a dull-edged knife. He can feel his vision swimming and wonders if it’s because he’s not getting enough air to breathe or because his eyes have started to water and tear up.

 

 

       He thinks he might throw up right then and there.

 

 

       “I said,” And Nines’ voice is even cooler, curling like cold silk by his ear, like the edge of a knife, and Gavin barely has the chance to suppress his shiver, to suppress the rough groan that wants to spill out of his throat. “Do I make myself _clear_ , detective?”

 

 

       Gavin is choking on his pain, but he finally nods, barely able to move much further with the grip of that steel hand holding him in place. Nines quirks a brow at him, waiting, and Gavin realizes what he wants, and in that next moment, he seethes, wants to punch that look off his face, wants to beat him until he’s bleeding blue, wants to -  he _wants_ \- _needs_ -

 

 

       He manages out a snarled agreement.

 

 

       It sounds more like a wheeze than anything verbal.  

 

 

       The hands holding him in place let him go without much fanfare, and he feels his world shift on him again as he slides off the desk, too fast, unable to catch the lip, and crashes back onto his ass. His head cracks against the plastic desk chair, and he bites out another curse, harsh and grating in his croaking voice. It’s an abrupt change, too sudden, and he hates how he feels the bile rise up into his throat, feels the acid burn his throat, and shuts his eyes. He swallows hard, trying to breathe through the pain in his arm, the pounding beat in his head, and tries to keep it at bay. He opens his eyes when it makes it worse, and glances up through bleary eyes, wet at the edges, to find Nines correcting the sleeves of his jacket and turning away to move past everyone to Connor, who’d gotten up at some point during the altercation.

 

 

       There’s an almost nervous look to him and he’s fidgeting, Gavin can just make out the gleam of his coin, -  a vivid line of silver in his hand,- but Nines presses a hand to his arm for a moment. He shakes his head minutely, their LEDs blinking in quick succession between one another, and then they turn to head out of the bullpen and toward the exit.

 

 

       Fuck ‘em _both_ then.

 

 

       Gavin looks past them to the rest of the precinct and finds everyone’s eyes on him. He can feel the shame and embarrassment curl up his spine like a heavy snake, burying its teeth into his throat, and he snarls at everyone. It comes out as a rasp, barely there, but the vitriol dripping from it could kill.  Just like that, the moment is broken and everyone quickly turns back to their duties, mindful not to get too close, not to rile Gavin up any further. He catches Anderson’s smug grin at his desk, impressed and all too _fucking_ _ecstatic_ , and ignores him in favour of trying to save the cactus that’s still under his desk.

 

 

       He needs to put everything back in order and then go the _fuck_ home.

 

 

       Fuck everyone here, he’s taking the rest of the day off.

 

 

       He tries to ignore the heat burning low in his gut and the sudden hunger he can feel in his throat, still able to feel Nines’ hands on the back of his neck. Each throb of his migraine resonates under the points on his neck he’s sure are going to form bruises, some phantom pressure that he realizes he desperately wants back, _needs_ back.

 

  
       Just like everything else about Nines, he fucking _hates_ it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rk900: _slams Gavin to desk, breaking a cactus._  
>  Gavin: ah. Fuck. I can't believe you've done this.
> 
>  
> 
> \-----------------
> 
> I finally managed to get a chapter out!!  
> Whoo hoo!  
> Sorry for the wait, darlings, I work full time and I've been really exhausted the last couple of days! 
> 
> That said, Meaiku, the wonderful darling who inspired me, had her birthday today! I worked so I wasn't able to get it done in time, so hopefully a late birthday present is acceptable. <3  
> I love reading your comments, thank you to those who sent me some! I love them a lot! 
> 
> Until next time!  
> Come scream with me on tumblr!  
> It's grimminsanity there too~.


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